


Kitt Fit Kill

by Julie Lewis (RokofAges75)



Category: Backstreet Boys
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:20:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23352334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RokofAges75/pseuds/Julie%20Lewis
Summary: Nick kills three fans on a quest to get #KittFit.Part ofRevenge of the Slaughtered: Nick Strikes Back
Relationships: Nick Carter/Lauren Kitt Carter
Collections: Revenge of the Slaughtered: Nick Strikes Back





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m gonna miss you so much, baby,” Nick told his fiancée, Lauren, as he kissed her goodbye.

“I’ll miss you, too.” Releasing him from her embrace, Lauren put both hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “You be good while I’m gone, now,” she said, pretending to be stern. “Just cause you’re baching it for a week doesn’t mean you can sit around, drink booze, and be a bum all day. Make sure you eat right and get to the gym so you can stay… Kitt Fit!” She flashed him a winning smile.

Nick smiled back. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m gonna be too busy busting my ass in the backyard to lie around eating junk. I’m sure I’ll burn plenty of calories even without going to the gym. I’m gonna show you and our fans some more creative ways to get… Kitt Fit!” He winked and clicked his tongue, giving her a double thumbs up.

The couple had kept up their “Kitt Fit” lifestyle throughout their time in Tennessee, where they were remodeling the house Nick owned near Nashville. Nick was staying to finish the renovations while Lauren returned to Los Angeles to train for her next fitness competition. He had some “special projects” he hoped to tackle while she was out of town.

As soon as she was gone, he got started on his work. The first phase of the project involved finding some willing participants – or, rather, waiting for _them_ to find _him_. All he had to do was go to the gym, like he’d promised Lauren he would, and wait to be recognized. If he was approached by a fan who fit the profile he was looking for – overweight from hours spent sitting at the computer, eating chips and writing fan fiction – he fed her his line: “Hey, girl. How would you like to get… Kitt Fit?”

He told them he and Lauren were developing a weight loss competition series, similar to _The Biggest Loser_ , to accompany their Kitt Fit campaign. “We’re searching for contestants to be on the show, and you’ve got just the look we’re going for!” he claimed. “How would you like to come with me back to my place and audition?”

In a single day, he brought home three eager victims. The first was Amanda, who’d worn a Backstreet Boys t-shirt to the gym. The second was Becca, who’d wiped her sweaty face with a BSB cruise towel at the end of her workout. Finally, there was Cassie, who’d gushed that she always listened to his songs while she walked on the treadmill. (Nick had shuddered as he heard the beat of “Burning Up” blaring out of her ear buds, remembering the flames igniting his pants while the smoke signed his nostrils. She would burn for reminding him of his own fiery death.)

He made each contestant strip down to her undergarments and step onto a scale. “Smile for your ‘before’ pic,” he would say, as he snapped photos. Then he locked the three of them in separate rooms, which he called “confessionals,” and went to work on the next phase of his project.

***

Amanda looked up nervously when he walked into the bathroom. She was lying in the bathtub, where he’d left her, looking like a beached whale in her bra and panties. He had chained her wrists to the faucet and bound her legs together so that her lower half could only flop around like a mermaid on land.

Nick could tell she had been crying. Clearly, she had realized this wasn’t a reality show. But that didn’t make her situation any less real. “You came here to lose weight, and I’m going to make sure that you do,” Nick promised, offering her a reassuring smile. “I know you’ve probably tried all kinds of weight-loss strategies in the past: diets… exercise… but have you ever tried liposuction?”

She shook her head, her eyes wide, and his smile grew.

“No? Well, prepare to be amazed. Liposuction is quick and easy. You just lie there and let the fat get sucked right out of you. It’s like magic! Look, I even have a magic wand!” He held up the end of his vacuum cleaner hose, hooked up to the narrowest attachment.

Amanda started to hyperventilate.

He set down the hose and took another step toward the tub, pulling a small knife out of his pocket. “Normally they knock you out before any kind of surgical procedure, but I wanted you to be able to watch the magic happen. Fair warning, though – this may sting a bit.”

She started screaming as he stabbed the knife into her belly and didn’t stop until he had finished boring a small hole.

“Shh,” he scolded her, wiping the bloody knife with a towel. “Don’t scream so much. You’ll scare the others.”

His weakened victim whimpered with pain and fear, while the blood poured from the knife wound in her belly. When he held up the vacuum cleaner attachment, she started to scream again. He jammed it through the opening in her skin, plugging up the hole. Then, with the flip of a switch, he turned it on.

The sound of her screams was overpowered by the roar of the vacuum, as it suctioned out her abdominal organs. The hose rattled in his hands as bloody bits of tissue were sucked through it. He held on, letting his homemade liposuction machine run until the “check bag” light came on, signaling that the vacuum cleaner bag was full. Meanwhile, Amanda’s abdominal cavity must be empty. Her belly was certainly looking flatter than before.

“Lipo may not be for everyone, but there’s no denying results like these,” he said to himself as he snapped an “after” picture.

After wrapping the body in a plastic tarp and dragging it out to his backyard, he spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the bathroom with bleach. That evening, he took to Twitter, posting a picture of himself standing in the sparkling bathroom, the vacuum cleaner propped in a corner behind him.

[**Nick Carter**](https://twitter.com/nickcarter) @nickcarter  
 _Got my bathroom clean and my workout in at the same time. Just another way to stay_ [#KittFit](https://twitter.com/search?q=%23kittfit&src=hash)!

Later, Lauren replied:

[**Lauren Kitt**](https://twitter.com/Lauren_Kitt) @Lauren_Kitt  
 _So lucky to have a future husband who helps out around the house! Love you_ @[nickcarter](https://twitter.com/nickcarter)! [#KittFit](https://twitter.com/search?q=%23kittfit&src=hash)

Nick smiled as he read her tweet. He wished his fiancée wasn’t so far away, but it was probably better that she was. He still had plenty of work left to do there without her. _One down… two to go,_ he thought, turning his attention to contestant number two.


	2. Chapter 2

Becca had struggled with her weight for most of her life. But a chance encounter with Nick Carter would change all of that.

On the day she met Nick, Becca stood five feet tall and weighed two hundred and twenty pounds. Dragging her body across the floor of his garage was a lot like rolling a large medicine ball, Nick decided. Luckily, Lauren had convinced him to incorporate strength training into his workouts. It came in handy as he hoisted his unconscious victim onto his work bench. He couldn’t resist taking a picture of himself flexing his bicep to post on Twitter.

[ **Nick Carter**](https://twitter.com/nickcarter) @nickcarter  
 _Doing some heavy lifting… check out these guns!_ [#KittFit](https://twitter.com/search?q=%23kittfit&src=hash)

By the time Becca came to, Nick had chained her arms to the back wall of his garage. Her legs were shackled to a separate length of chain, which he’d hooked to the trailer hitch on the back of his SUV. The chains rattled as she struggled to free herself.

Watching her writhe on the table, Nick shook his head. “Becca, Becca, Becca… you’re gonna pull a muscle if you don’t do a proper warm-up first. The key to increasing your range of motion is _stretching_.” He drew out the word, raising his arms above his head so she could see the car keys he held in one hand. “Let’s get those stubby little arms and legs of yours looking _long_ and _lean_ , shall we?”

“Please,” Becca begged pitifully, shaking her head back and forth, “don’t hurt me.”

“No pain, no gain,” Nick replied, jangling his keys. “You gotta push through the pain!” He jumped into the driver’s seat of his SUV, and the engine sprang to life. He revved it a few times while the vehicle was in park, then shifted it into drive and took his foot off the brake.

Through the open window, he could hear her start to scream as the SUV rolled forward, pulling the chains taut. He watched in the rearview mirror as her whole body was lifted off the work table, suspended in midair by the force being exerted on her arms and legs. “Did you know they called this being ‘drawn and quartered’ back in medieval times?” he shouted out the window, though he wasn’t sure Becca could hear him over the sound of her own screams.

Afraid the neighbors would hear, he braked and put the SUV back into park. By the time he’d shut off the engine, Becca had stopped screaming. “Of course, back then they used horses instead of cars,” he added, as he climbed out and walked to the back of the garage to check on her. She was breathing as fast and hard as if she’d just run a race, her skin pale and sweaty, her stretched limbs shaking visibly. “They’d tie your arms and legs to four horses, then slap the horses to send them running in different directions so that they ripped you apart – into four quarters, get it? That’s why they called it ‘quartering.”

Becca sobbed, as Nick smiled. He’d always enjoyed learning about the gorier parts of history.

“I’ll let you cool down for a sec while I get set up for the next leg of your weight loss journey.” As he lifted his ax from its peg on the wall above the work bench, he snickered to himself, amused by his little pun. “One way or the other, we’re gonna get you down to your ideal weight,” he promised, touching the blade of the ax. It was a little duller than he’d have liked, but he decided he’d just have to make do.

“Wh-what are you going to do with that?” Becca whimpered, watching him with wide eyes.

“Sorry, sweetie, but you have a lot of weight to lose and only a short window of time in which to lose it. Lauren’ll be back in a week, and I can’t have your lard ass still lying around when she gets here. Drastic times call for drastic measures.”

He raised the ax above his head and swung it swiftly down, sinking the blade into her thigh. Becca let out a blood-curdling scream, which he ignored. The blade wasn’t sharp enough to cut all the way through the bone, so he wrenched it out and took a second swing. This time, he succeeded in severing her left leg.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he said, “Did you know each of your legs weighs about twenty percent of your total body weight? So once I take this other one off, you’ll be down almost…” He paused to do the math in his head. “…eighty-eight pounds. Can’t beat that!”

Becca was too busy screaming to reply.

“Here goes! Get ready to lose it, girl!” Taking a deep breath, Nick hoisted the ax over his head again and brought it hurtling down to strike her remaining leg. He was more tired this time, so it took three blows before he’d completely cut off the limb.

Becca, too, was growing weaker, as the blood pumped out of her mutilated stumps and pooled on the garage floor.

“Good thing I remembered to put down a tarp,” Nick said, skidding a little on the length of plastic sheeting. “Now, let’s target those flabby arms of yours next.”

With her arms still chained to the wall behind her, Becca was powerless to fight him off. All she could do was flop around like a fish, her severed legs spurting more blood with every feeble movement she made. Nick choked up on the axe handle and took aim, eyeing the exposed flesh of her upper arms. Plump and milky white, it reminded him of uncooked sausage. And once the blade of the axe had broken through the casing of her skin and struck bone, the bloody shreds of tissue that remained looked just as raw. He didn’t blame Becca for passing out when she turned her head and saw the severed remains of her right arm; it was, after all, a pretty gruesome sight. But he was used to such things by now and wasn’t bothered by the blood and gore. He went about his work in a businesslike manner, chopping off her other arm with the stomach of a surgeon and the strength of a lumberjack.

 _“I-I-I’m a[lumberjack](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mL7n5mEmXJo), and I’m okay! I sleep all night, and I work all day!”_ sang Nick gleefully as he chopped, hacking the arm away from its shoulder. “TIM-BER!” he shouted, before severing the last bit of sinew that connected the two. The arm went swinging on its chain and smacked into the wall, leaving a smear of blood on the drywall. “Nothing a little bleach and a fresh coat of paint can’t fix,” said Nick to himself. “Now to finish the job!”

But for that, he wanted his victim awake, so he tapped Becca on the shoulder, causing more blood to spew out onto his shoes. “Damn, and I liked this pair, too.” He shook his head. “Oh well… time to wake up and see this bangin’ new bod of yours, babe!” He gave Becca another rough poke, and she recoiled in pain, her eyes popping open. “Ah, there we go. Up and at ‘em! Let’s get you on the scale and see how much you’ve lost!”

Becca was free from her chains now, but without arms or legs, she could do nothing but writhe around as Nick scooped her up and carried her to the scale he’d set on the floor of the garage. He lowered her down onto the scale, forcing her to sit upright so it could calculate her current weight. Becca slumped feebly in his arms, fading fast from blood loss, but he held her up until the scale finished calibrating. Curious, he looked down at the number. “One hundred ten!” he announced. “Look at that, Becca – you’ve lost half your body weight! Another ten pounds, and you’ll be right at the ideal body weight for your height. And wouldn’t you know it? The human head weighs an average of ten pounds!”

At that, Becca’s eyes rolled back into her head, and she fell into a dead faint. With a sigh, Nick hauled her back up onto the table. “Stay awake!” he shouted, slapping her cheeks. Without her conscious, this wouldn’t be nearly as fun. Becca came to briefly, just long enough for him to appreciate the look in her eyes as she saw the bloodied blade of the axe flying toward her face. It struck her just under the chin, sinking quite easily through her throat and severing her spine as it split her neck in half. She blinked once more as her decapitated head went rolling off the table and bounced onto the floor. When Nick reached down and picked it up by the hair, her eyes were frozen in fear, the pupils fixed and dilated, but fresh tears were still trickling out of their corners.

“I know… I know,” he whispered, patting her head. “Anyone would cry with happiness after losing this much weight.” Then he set down the head so he could snap an “after” picture of the mangled torso on the table before he started chopping it up.

Once he had finished bagging Becca’s body parts and cleaning up the blood, he took one more photo, a “selfie” of himself holding up the gleaming axe. He made sure the calorie counter he wore on his wrist was turned toward the camera. Then he uploaded the picture, accompanied by another tweet:

[ **Nick Carter**](https://twitter.com/nickcarter) @nickcarter  
 _Just burned 341 calories chopping firewood. Great way to blow off some steam and stay_[#KittFit](https://twitter.com/search?q=%23kittfit&src=hash) _!_

Feeling tired, but accomplished, he headed into the house to soak his sore muscles in a hot bath. _Two down,_ he thought _. One to go._ He would finish off contestant number three later. __


	3. Chapter 3

Before his fiancée Lauren had left for Los Angeles, she and Nick had made a list of home improvement projects he was going to finish while she was gone. One of his tasks was to build a fire pit in the backyard, so they’d be able to enjoy bonfires on cool summer nights. Nick had started digging the pit on the day Lauren left, though he didn’t exactly stick to her plan. By the time he had finished, the pit was eight feet deep – the perfect place to keep a prisoner.

That was how his third weight-loss contestant, Cassie, had come to be bound and gagged at the bottom of the giant hole in his backyard.

He had dumped her there on the first day of the “competition,” telling her, “Calorie restriction is a surefire way to lose weight.” He had been slowly starving her for the past six days, letting her drink from the garden hose to keep her from getting dehydrated. But Lauren would be back that night to spend the weekend with him, so Nick knew he needed to finish the job.

He left the Q Lazzarus song “[Goodbye Horses](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XTs_TZFjbJ8)” blaring through his open windows as he walked out to the backyard, his dog Nacho trotting at his heels. The sun was high in the sky, shining straight down on the girl in the fire pit. “Looks like you’re getting burnt!” he called down to her.

The gag in her mouth kept Cassie from responding, but the tears trickling down her red face were evidence enough of her misery.

“Here… put on some sunscreen!” He dropped a spray bottle of Banana Boat into a bucket, which he lowered into the pit with a rope.

Burying her face in her hands, Cassie turned away from him. He could see the skin peeling from her blistered back.

“It sprays the lotion on its skin. It does this whenever it’s told,” Nick commanded.

Cassie continued to ignore him.

“It sprays the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again!” Nick threatened loudly, brandishing the garden hose. Nacho let out a yip of excitement, thinking it was time to play. Like his master, the pug loved water. “Yes she will, Nacho, she will get the hose!” Nick cooed in baby talk, scratching his dog behind the ears.

The threat worked. Still crying, Cassie sprayed the sunscreen all over her corpulent body, rubbing it in with shaking hands.

“Now it places the lotion in the bucket,” said Nick when she was finished.

Cassie resisted, clutching the bottle in her trembling hand.

“It places the lotion in the bucket,” Nick repeated, knowing time was running short. When she still refused, he screamed, “Put the fucking lotion in the bucket!”

Finally, his victim did as she was told. He hauled the bucket of sunscreen out of the hole and set it aside.

“I can tell you’ve already shed some weight just by sticking to a no-calorie diet!” he called, looking down into the fire pit. “But you know, diet alone won’t do it. You need to exercise, too. You said you like to work out to my song ‘Burning Up,’ right?” He struck a match and held it over the edge for her to see. “Well, get ready to burn some calories, babe!”

Right on cue, the next track on his playlist had begun. _“I’m burning up,”_ he heard his own voice sing over the driving club beat. With a sinister smile, he let go of the lit match.

As soon as the match dropped into the hole, he heard a muffled scream and watched his victim erupt in flames. The sunscreen spray, which was flammable when wet, acted as an accelerant, causing the fire to spread quickly over her skin. She danced around frantically, flailing her fiery arms, as he watched in amusement from above, his song playing in the background. _“This club… is so high… and you light it up; it’s ready to blow. Hands up… Don’t stop… If you’re sexy, then get out of control.”_

He couldn’t help but chant along. _“Let’s get fired up! Get, get fired up! Let’s get fired up! Get, get fired up! Let’s get fired up! Get, get fired up! Let’s get fired up! Get, get fired up!_ Sing it with me now!” he called down into the hole. _“I’m burning up… and up! I’m burning up… and up! So all you sexy people burn it up!”_

The flames worked quickly. By the time the song was finished, the smell of burnt meat hung in the air, and the girl called Cassie had been reduced to a pile of smoldering remains. “Look how many inches you lost!” Nick called into the pit. “You go, girl!” Then he got his shovel and started scooping the pile of loose soil back into the pit, smothering the fire.

When the fire pit was finished, he took a picture of himself standing in front of it, his smiling face streaked with sweat and dirt. Along with the photo, he tweeted:

[ **Nick Carter**](https://twitter.com/nickcarter) @nickcarter  
 _Burned a shitload of calories digging this fire pit for me & Lo! Maybe now she’ll let me make s'mores. Not 2 many tho…gotta stay _[#KittFit](https://twitter.com/search?q=%23kittfit&src=hash) _!_

Lauren came back to find a roaring bonfire in the new fire pit. “Nick, this is awesome!” she exclaimed as she walked into the backyard. “I’m impressed!” She paused to sniff the air. “Have you been cooking on the fire? I smell meat.”

Nick shifted a log to cover up the femur he could see sticking up from the flames, its flesh melted away. He couldn’t tell if it was Amanda’s or Becca’s; they’d both made excellent firewood. Smiling innocently at his fiancée, he replied, “Just hot dogs. And before you say anything, I know they’re bad for me, but after all the calories I burnt building this thing, I figured I could indulge a little tonight. Want one?” He held up his roasting stick, speared with two hot dogs.

Lauren wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “No thanks, I’ll pass. I have to stay… Kitt Fit!” she quipped with a wink. “By the way,” she added, dropping down into the empty lawn chair beside him, “I enjoyed all your tweets this week. Thanks for helping our fans find productive ways to get Kitt Fit, too!”

“No problem, babe. It was my pleasure,” said Nick, gazing hungrily into the flames. Killing fans was a lot like losing weight, he mused. Even when he saw results, he was never satisfied, and his work was never done.

_Twenty-six down… so many more to go._


End file.
